8 Seconds
by Asylum Survivor
Summary: What would you do if you could turn back time? Fax/Miggy.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Maximum Ride. James Patterson does.**

**Title: 8 Seconds**

**Summary: What would you do if you could turn back time?**

**Pairings/Ships: Miggy, some Fax, some Mylan.**

**Inspirations: "The Writer" by Ellie Goulding**

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_"Who controls the past controls the future and who controls the present controls the past." - George Orwell_

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**DECEMBER 23**

**12:30 PM**

It was a bitter December morning when it happened. It was snowing and it was too quiet outside. Not the relaxing, soft quiet, but the harsh eeriness.

The next thing I knew, I opened my eyes to a room. Precisely, a hospital room. I looked around, taking in my location and whereabouts. I was wrapped up in an itchy cotton sea foam-colored hospital gown that was as stiff as a piece of cardboard. I tried to push myself up into a sitting position, but I couldn't find the strength to. I tried to speak, but my voice came out in a strangled cry, dry and papery. I kicked the blankets off of me and stared at my legs. Instead of my bruised, scarred, and suntanned legs, I came face to face with my legs with bandages running up and down them.

_What the hell had happened?_

I pulled the covers back when I heard the metal door squeak open.

"Max?" My mom called out, softly. She had a bouquet of flowers in her hand.

"Mom?" I watched her come closer to me, but she was hesitating.

"What happened? Why are my legs bandaged up? Where's Iggy?" I asked her. I was all alone in the room and the only noise beside the beeping of the heart rate monitor.

Mom sat down next to me, and touched my arm.

"There's been an accident and...he's dead, hon."

**1:00 PM**

"She's waking up!"

"Get the nurse!"

"Mom? Where're you?" I slurred as I felt someone help me sit up.

"...can't tell her now, she'll go into cardiac arrest..."

"...already knows, though..."

"...horrible, just a horrible crash..."

"It just completely flipped over...how did she even survive?"

Bits and pieces of conversation floated in and out of my hearing range. I craned my neck to listen to what they were saying.

A nurse in a pink sweater and white scrubs placed a tray of soup on my little bedside table. I grabbed her arm desperately.

"Tell me what happened! Why am I here?" I pleaded. I let go of her so she could answer me.

"Um, well...you and a guy around your age were in a car crash a couple days ago. Somehow, the car slipped on black ice on the road and it got flipped over. He, the person driving, died immediately and you suffered major concussions and you got knocked out, and still were, even when the ambulance got you."

I had no reaction. Either I would have burst into tears or just plain laughed out loud, without humor.

"Can you tell me the date and the exact time of when the accident occurred?" I spoke in a whisper.

"Hmm..December 18, 10...56 AM." She finished.

"Finish up your lunch and then I'll put new bandages on you." She rushed me.

After I ate my lunch, she started to unwrap my legs. She started to tell me that I would take, at the least, a month to recover, then another month of bed rest.

When she removed all of the bandages, she gave a low whistle, "Damn, I wished Neosporin worked that fast." She slapped my leg twice, and announced, "You're free to go."

**DECEMBER 28**

**4:00 PM**

It had been five days since I had been released from the hospital, and ten days since the accident and Iggy's death. It was his funeral and no one was ready for the emotional rude-awakening. All of us, or what was remaining, piled into the car. I drove silently drove along the deserted and near isolated roads. The sun shone brightly, in an ironic way. I scoffed at the sun.

When we got to the cemetery, no one said a word as they climbed out. The dark cloud that hung over everyone for the past week had followed us here. After we buried him, we had to say a few words about. When it was my turn, I stared at my shoes.

"Uh, he really liked fireflies. He really did. He was my best friend, and I was in love with him and I never told him that I was. I thought he knew. He was my solace when I was need of some...comfort." My voice broke.

"He was the only person who knew all my secrets, and the only one who kept them, too." I reached into the pocket of my peacoat and took the antique pocket watch he had given to me for my 17th birthday. I had no idea why he had given me it. I had no use for it. And it was very old and strangely made. There was the clock itself, then inside the face of it, between the numbers and the hands, there were three slot-machine things, for month, day, year. You would have to crank it with a dial on the side of the watch, but I couldn't get the slot-machine things to ever work.

"I miss him. I wish I could go back in time and..." I started to cry silently. I didn't any noise, only a steady stream of tears ran down my cheeks. Fang put his arm around and wheeled me off.

**6:40 PM**

I raced into my room and slammed the door. I turned around, pressing my back to the door, and slid down, sobbing. After a good, solid 10-minute cry, I started to get up. I decided to back downstairs and get dinner started. I went into the kitchen and saw everyone sitting around the dining table.

"What's going on?" I asked when Angel told me sit down.

"We know that this is going to be hard for you to deal with Iggy's death, so we wanted to let you know that we're always here for you and," Fang started to say to me. His hand reached across the table and he squeezed my hand.

"You knew it!" Nudge shouted unannounced.

"What the hell?" I yelped back, flinching.

"You knew I loved him, but still! You had to go and, and, _fall in love with him!_" Nudge shrieked.

I stood straight up and accidentally, the chair made a scraping noise as it pushed back.

"I didn't know!" I squealed.

"Didn't know, my butt! I fu-!" Nudge screamed hysterically, but Dylan clamped his hand over her mouth to quiet her down. He took her arms and hauled her to her room while she was screaming, "I loved him! You knew it! You flipping knew it!"

**9:57 PM**

I was worn out, so I decided to fix up the pocket watch. I got out a tiny screwdriver that I saved for picking locks and put on my monocle with the magnifier. I sat down at my desk and turned one lamp on and directed it to my desk. I opened up the interior of it, looking at all the gears and cogs turning to the clock's ticking tune. I looked behind the slot-machine things and changed it up to my sixteenth birthday, May 14, just for the hell of it. I flipped it over, hands side up and dragged the hands so they were pointing at 9 PM. Nothing happened, and the hands stopped moving, but the clock still ticked. So I set it down, and leaned back in my chair and closed my eyes.

**MAY 14**

**9:00 PM**

When I opened my eyes, I was surrounded by the sweet scent of freshly cut grass, the tanginess of the brine in the ocean, and the ever-familiar scent of Abercrombie and Fitch . My hair was longer than it was, and I was laying on the grass. Someone's hands were pressed down onto the grass, near both sides of my head. I looked up to see it was Iggy.

"Hey," He beamed down at me, as he hovered over me.

_What the hell? Where'd he come from?_

I was too shocked to say anything, so I immediately reached into the pockets of my shorts and pulled out my pocket watch and hastily set it back to December 28, 9:57 PM.

**DECEMBER 28**

**9:57 PM**

The eerie but comforting coldness of my room greeted me back when I returned to my chair. My pocket watch was in front of me, on my desk with my screwdriver. Everything was normal like nothing had happened at all.

How the hell had I gone back to my sixteenth birthday when Iggy was still _alive_? How? Had I just traveled back in time?

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**So what do you think? Reviews are love.**

**~A**


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